


Upstaged

by TheOtherCourse (kanevixen)



Series: Tom and Abigail Series [1]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Celebrity Crush, Co-workers, Crush at First Sight, Crushes, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Male-Female Friendship, POV Female Character, POV First Person, Sex, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 03:07:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3192986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanevixen/pseuds/TheOtherCourse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In July 2011, Immediately following the Avengers shoot (moved from April-August to January-June).Tom Hiddleston and his costar, Abigail Morgan are drawn into a very private and torrid affair.</p><p>
  <img/>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Upstaged

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched my gorgeous costar deliver his second act monologue with precision. He nailed the emotion, timing and beat every time, and he made it look effortless. He knew the script from every angle, and I was in awe of his talent. How I’d ever been cast as his other half I had no idea. There was no way I wasn’t going to be upstaged in this production.

Damn him, he was wearing that sexy black leather jacket again. The one that he wore so well. The one that created a soul devouring lust within the pit of my stomach. That one.

How could one scrap of cow hide frustrate the hell out me? He had inherited the smell of that leather and had become part of him. His easy masculine cologne and the leather had created something inherently him. That smell hit my brain, fried essential cells and weakened my will against him. Something so uniquely sexy that I was ready to kneel before him and beg him to take me.

 

That was my visual at night when I went home. Alone. Unoccupied. With the fresh thought of him in that jacket and his scent in my nose, I was sexually frustrated and he was the only one to fill that void. Memories of running lines and rehearsing with him flooded my senses. His voice, sensual in its timbre, echoed in my ears. Every night was the same. His name said like a prayer as my fingers brought me to orgasm. Again.

All powerful.

All consuming.

Because of him.

Examining the jacket closely, there was nothing remarkable about it. The attraction was with the man who wore the material oh so well. Complimentary in making him appear long, lean, slender and virile. I wanted him. Now.

“That’s it! I think that’s a good place to stop for now,” the director shouted to the cast at large, scattered around the rehearsal space. “Rehearsal tomorrow, same time.”

I snapped out of my thoughts by the sound, the surprise shocking me. My script fell from my lap with a terrific thud, drawing more attention than I cared for. My co-star smiled, blowing a small breath of air between his parted lips. I found myself staring at that thin pink mouth. As if he caught my stare, his tongue briefly stuck out to moisten his lips, effectively moistening mine – between my legs.

“Allow me,” he offered politely. Squatting to the floor (couldn’t he stay there and see to other matters?), the tall actor collected my binder and handed it back to me. His face took on a purely angelic look from this angle, glancing up at me. My cheeks burned with a deep blush, causing me to look away embarrassed.

“Thank you,” I muttered and scurried off to the toilet. All the other actors and actresses were leaving and making plans for the evening. I quickly made my way through my personal dressing room to the bathroom beyond to splash water on my face. This crush needed to end so I could get on with successfully portraying his lover. How did this man have the power to turn me into a simpering weak little mouse?

I dried my face as I stepped back into my stark, still empty white dressing room. A huge mirror surrounded by lights occupied one wall, currently brightly lit. Silently while looking at my reflection, I gave myself a stern pep talk. Laying my hands upon the cool Formica of the table, I hung my head in shame, believing myself stronger than a silly infatuation. This was the time to move on and take control of my emotions.

I breathed in deeply and released it slowly. Repeated the process, once, twice. To my own ears, I was breathing like I’d been taught to. Somehow it helped center me and get a hold on my emotions. I knew I had a modicum of talent to be cast opposite Tom Hiddleston. I was intimate with my character, the background, and the arch of the story. I needed to own it, turn on my inner diva.

Long arms wrapped around my waist suddenly, warm hands on my thighs and I was pulled backwards. Gasping in surprise at the unexpected presence, my eyes locked with those of my visitor, big beautiful blue ones with the irises blown in the middle. Before I could say anything, he nestled his waist against my ass. My jaw dropped at the feel of his unmistakable erection, but I said nothing.

He wouldn’t release my gaze in the reflection as he licked the shell of my ear. If it weren’t for his hands holding my legs and body behind me, my knees wouldn’t have been able to hold my weight. He blew a hot breath against the newly moist spot and let myself lean heavily on him. My breath was shallower with the onslaught to my nerve-endings.

His voice was low, rough and laced with sex when he finally spoke. “Do I make you nervous, Abigail?” I whimpered in response as one hand began ascending up my side achingly slow. “You don’t need to be bashful or apprehensive with me. You’ve got a phenomenal talent, and can be intimidating.”

That hand. Oh God. That hand brushed over my center briefly before resting on my stomach, pressing me into him further. His teeth attached to the lobe of that same ear, working it lightly between a bite. He murmured, “Do you want me to fuck you, Abigail?” I was stunned speechless, my head dizzy and my vision unfocused. “Talk to me, woman. Tell me what you want.”

Like a mute, no words came. He was trying to break down that wall of silence, tearing down my feeling of insecurity. His hand tucked down between my legs against my sex, as he rubbed his crotch against my rear again. “This is no time to be timid, my dear Abigail. I’ve had a hard-on for you for a fortnight. To be honest, my wrist is sore.”

The innuendo was not lost on me, even in the haze of awareness he was weaving around me. A heavy pool of eroticism settled at the apex of my thighs, my inner walls constricted in anticipation. Had he really been flirting me this entire time? I’m not in tuned with subtle, I needed a man that outright admit that he liked me. I never thought Tom would be that man.

Applying pressure to my middle with his fingers, he nipped at the column of my neck. Speaking into my skin seductively, he continued, rubbing tiny circles into my jeans. “Do you think of me and touch yourself here? How many orgasms am I, in my absence, responsible for?” I whimpered pathetically as my hips bucked into his slow manipulation. His hand stopped and moved to my breast, squeezing gently. The vision of it in the mirror nearly undid me. He met my eyes again, and insisted, “Tell me what you want, woman.”

Desire like I had never experienced coursed through my body like a freight train. My entire being buzzed with arousal, surrounded by the vision and smell of him. Delicious tension thrummed between my legs, I was more than wet and ready for him. Only Tom could satisfy this heightened want; he was solely and fully responsible. Taking back control of my body, my hand reached between us, and grasped his turgid length. Rubbing with a confidence that I’d never possessed in his presence before, I drove him to near madness.

In response, his hands filled with a breast each, caressing until he could feel my nipples harden and peak beneath the layers of my clothing. The knowledge that he was as hot for me as I was for him gave me my voice. “Take me, take me hard.”

He groaned loudly as he spun me around. His mouth attached and ravaged me harshly. His tongue pushed into the depths, rubbing and dancing along mine. Wet and sloppy as it was, the passion was undeniable. Teeth nibbled and lips pressed, our tongues tangled. Arms and hands crushed our bodies together, every inch of him firm against me. He picked me up and seated me on the dressing room table, stepping between my parted legs.

He ripped his mouth from mine to bury his face in my neck. He kissed a spot just south of my pulse point before sucking the skin. Breathlessly, I demanded, “Fuck me, Tom. Fuck me!”

My hands desperately worked at his belt and the zipper of his trousers, trying to get them off. I peeled the material and cotton boxer-briefs off his hips, just enough to free his hard member. Grabbing his full attention, I licked my palm and wrapped that hand around his length. I stroked languidly, earning a hearty moan. His eyes fluttered shut with the pleasure of it, almost thrusting into my fist. Harshly, he growled, “God damn it, woman. What you do to me.”

Impatiently, he relieved me of my jeans and panties, desperate to get on with the seduction. His hands ran up the length of my legs, widening as he did and pulling me towards him. He fished a condom out his pocket, to sheath his length with my assistance. Touching my folds, he tested my response to him by circling that sensitive spot at the top of my sex. My hips involuntarily jutted into his digits, exhaling a fervent “AH!”

Tom stepped back into the circle of my arms, bringing his fingers from me into his mouth. He smirked around the digits in his mouth and winked. He slid an arm around my waist and pulled me off the table onto my feet. With confusion, I looked up at him. He smiled mischievously, “We can both enjoy this ten-fold. Do you want to watch me fuck you balls deep and senseless?”

Without waiting for my answer, he guided me so I was facing the mirror again. I placed my elbows on the hard, cold, smooth surface of the Formica, and spread my legs. Biting my lip, I wiggled my ass against him. He growled as our eyes met in the reflection, “Fucking hell.”

“Do it, Tom!”

With vigor and primal need, he drove into me, the force of the thrust driving me forward. We both groaned with the intensity of it, our breathing labored and intense. I splayed my hands on the countertop, desperate for purchase, my palms moist. I steeled myself against his assault, attempting to anchor myself in place. Our eyes met and locked again, as he rammed his hips into me over and over again. The muted sound of skin damp with sweat slapped and bounced around the walls, adding to the cacophony of our moans, groans, grunts and curses.

As his face began contorting in pleasure, he worked his fingers to my clit to usher me along with him. The manipulation and watching the act in the mirror before me set me on a steady course to oblivion. Raw and urgent, his thrusts increased in strength as did the pressure on that sweet bundle of nerves. Sweet release slammed into me, collapsing my torso onto my arms. My inner walls clenched and relaxed in rhythmic bliss. I panted audibly as Tom continued to grind into me.

With my name on his lips, he collapsed onto me heavily, his cock twitching inside me. He exhaled hotly into my hair before his teeth found my shoulder once more. Branding me with his jaw, I moaned weakly at the pain. My body felt limp and shaky from the exertion and mind-numbing euphoria. As the world returned and we regained our breath, we untangled our limbs from one another. I stepped into my panties and pants as Tom tucked himself back into place.

Pulling me into his arms when he was done, he kissed me leisurely. This time he took the time to taste me, and I gave it as much as he did. Speaking with his lips still on mine, he half-demanded, half-asked, “Come home with me. I will allow you to upstage me.”


End file.
